


Cleansing Light

by DeathBelle



Series: In A Galaxy Far, Far Away... [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: General!Kawanishi, Imprisonment, M/M, Mental Torture, Sith Lord!Shirabu, Star Wars!au, Violence, mental trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-23 07:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: The mission went wrong, and Semi lost everything.He's trapped on a star destroyer with a bitter Sith Lord and a stolen Padawan. Tendou is gone, and Semi hasn't felt him through their force bond for days. The solitude is slowly driving him mad, and he's on the brink of a catastrophic decision that could affect not only his future, but that of the Sith and the Jedi, as well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This begins directly after the conclusion of Part 1. If you haven't read that part first, you'll have no idea what's going on.

Semi Eita was furious.

When he’d been younger, and the confidence of childhood had given him no doubts as to his potential of becoming a great Jedi Knight, he had been taught that anger was unacceptable. He’d heard the same speech cycled in so many voices that he sometimes heard it echoing around in his brain while he slept, different tones and inflections blending into a headache-inducing cacophony.

Anger leads to hatred.

Hatred leads to the Dark Side of the Force.

The first step in all of that, the precursor to the anger, was fear. By that mindset, fear was the root of anyone’s pull toward the Dark Side. Fear should be resisted at all costs.

In his childhood, Semi had memorized these warnings, but he hadn’t been convinced of their truth. He was afraid of things sometimes, but he didn’t think an aversion to shadowmoths would keep him from becoming a successful Jedi.

He’d always had his doubts about that philosophy, but now, when he looked back at the past, he saw just how right his Masters had been.

Semi had never felt a pull toward the Dark Side until he met Tendou Satori. 

He’d also never known true fear before Tendou Satori.

That fear had never been for himself.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, slamming a fist on the console of the control room. “Cut the engines. Keep the ship idle. We are not leaving until Tendou gets back.”

“He isn’t coming back,” said Darth Kal, perfectly calm in the face of Semi’s anger. “General, take off when you’re ready.”

General Kawanishi gave a slight nod, but nothing more. His expression remained unchanging, as always, as he dragged down a lever and the ship thrummed beneath Semi’s feet.

“I said cut the engines!” said Semi. 

Kawanishi gave him the briefest of glances and ignored him completely.

“You did,” agreed Darth Kal. “And I said to take off. My orders hold more weight.”

“You’re not the Commander of this ship,” said Semi. “You’re not the Commander of anything, Shirabu. When Tendou comes back-”

“Darth Masakh,” he corrected, “is not coming back.”

“You don’t-”

“You left him to face Ushijima alone,” said Shirabu, cutting him short. “Even if he hadn’t been wounded, he still would have lost. No one can defeat Ushijima one-on-one. Darth Masakh is dead.”

Semi seized Shirabu by the front of his robe and snarled in his face. “He is _not_ dead. I would have felt it.”

“Are you certain?” asked Shirabu, raising a brow. “He’s never died before, so how would you know?”

Semi shoved him away. Shirabu took two steps back, but otherwise didn’t react. 

“Even if he is alive,” said Shirabu, “we will never see him again. He is lost to the Jedi. They will kill him on their own time.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Either way, it’s not a concern of ours any longer. Let’s go, Kawanishi.”

The General nodded again, and the ship gave a gentle lurch.

“Take us back down to the city!” said Semi.

Kawanishi didn’t acknowledge him.

“You’re not in charge here, Semi,” said Shirabu. He straightened the front of his robes with steady hands. “You never were. Now that Darth Masakh is gone, there is no one left to coddle you. I am in charge now.”

“He is not gone. We’re going back down there. I’m going to get him, and then he-”

“He is gone,” repeated Shirabu. His eyes were as cold as the pressing void of space beyond the windows. “I am the Commander. I am Sith. I will destroy the Jedi Order, since my predecessor failed to do so.”

“How do you expect to defeat them on your own,” said Semi, “when even Tendou couldn’t do it?”

“I won’t do it on my own.” Shirabu checked the readings on the panel as Kawanishi prepared for the transition to hyperdrive. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and started toward the door, stepping past a trio of engineers who tapped at a flurry of flashing buttons. “You’ve brought me an apprentice.”

Semi wanted to follow him. He wanted to chase him down and slam him into the wall and demand that they go back to fetch Tendou. He wanted to squeeze Kawanishi’s mind in debilitating pain until he agreed to listen, until he turned the ship around and took them back.

Semi wanted many things, and despite his rage, he wasn’t foolish enough to think he would achieve them.

He stormed out of the control room, and everyone he passed gave him a wide berth.

Semi was angry at Shirabu, but that wasn’t the root of the problem. He was also terrified.

Semi was afraid that Tendou truly was lost, that they would never recover him. He was afraid of what that meant for Tendou, because as he’d told Shirabu, he would know if Tendou died. If he did, Semi didn’t know what he would do.

He was afraid for Tendou, which gave birth to his anger at Shirabu, which morphed into hatred of this starship and their General and the self-righteous Jedi Order who had caused this entire ordeal.

He considered hopping into a TIE fighter and flying back to Coruscant to mount a one-man attack on the Temple. It was already in chaos. Maybe he could rescue Tendou and get them both to safety.

Or maybe he would get both of them killed.

He gritted his teeth against a scream of sheer exasperation. He balled his hands into fists and a wall of energy pulsed from his mind. It slammed into the walls and the metal panels caved inward, bowing beneath the pressure.

Disposing of Shirabu would be the easier choice. Without him in the way, Semi could take command of the ship and Kawanishi would have no choice but to follow his orders.

He may have tried it, had he not known Shirabu so well.

Tendou had taken Shirabu under his wing years before. He’d groomed him into a shining example of a Sith Lord, and with that guidance, Shirabu had grown impressively strong in the Force.

A year ago, perhaps even less, Semi wouldn’t have hesitated. Now, though, he wasn’t so sure that he could win in a direct fight against Shirabu.

After all, Semi wasn’t Sith. He couldn’t be, with Shirabu around.

Semi was still bitter about that, but he knew why Tendou had done it. He knew and he understood, but that didn’t lessen his bitterness. 

He stomped into his room and slammed his fist into the panel to close the door behind him. He stood just past the threshold, blood boiling with fury, the detonation of his temper bridled by only the thinnest thread of self-control.

He took a tight breath and looked around the room. It was familiar, and should have been comforting. They’d acquired this ship nearly two years ago, and he’d lived in this room ever since. It was the closest thing to a home that he’d had since he and Tendou had fled the Jedi Order.

It was familiar, but wrong. The bed was halfway made, one side crumpled in eternal disarray. 

Semi knew if he went closer, if he buried his face in that wrinkled pillow, he would smell Tendou.

His temper was ripped out of him along with the scream in his throat. The floor was hard against his knees and the room exploded in a flurry. Everything that wasn’t bolted in place flew across the room, slamming into walls, spewing disorder over every square inch of space. Semi hunched over, arms wrapped around his torso to hold himself together.

Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a whisper, sweet and scarlet.

_Take a breath, Semi-Semi. Everything is fine._

It could have been a hallucination. He’d thought it was, the first time it had happened. 

But now he knew better, and he did as the voice said. 

The breath hurt, but not as badly as the agony tearing his mind to shreds. 

He would never admit it to Shirabu, but he’d been right. They weren’t getting Tendou back. Leaving him to face Ushijima alone had been a mistake. If Semi had stayed, the outcome may have been the same, but at least they would have been prisoners of the Jedi together. That would have been better than the pain of solitude, the agony of loss.

Semi had been through a lot of hard times in his life, and some of them he’d barely survived. He’d pushed through, though, because he hadn’t been alone. Tendou had always been with him.

Now that he was gone, Semi didn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t slept for nearly two days, but he didn’t sleep now. He didn’t even lay on his bed, because he feared his mind would play tricks and feed him the sensation of phantom warmth against his back.

Instead he sat in the corner, forehead resting on his knees, swimming in loss and regret. His chest ached, more presently than any physical wound he’d ever been dealt. 

The worst of those wounds had been struck across his chest, where an ugly scar was still twisted into his flesh like a brand from several years before. 

Tendou had been outraged. Everyone in that village had died.

Semi would kill them all again, and more, to get Tendou back.

A while later, probably around nightfall on Coruscant, he unfolded himself from the floor, body protesting as he stretched upright. Half of him ached and the other half was numb, but it was still nothing compared to the black chaos of his mind. He stripped himself off his clothes, the ones Ushijima had given him, and considered burning them. The act of destroying something may have been satisfying. Instead he tossed them into the laundry chute, because it took less effort, and he didn’t have much to give.

He should have cleaned himself up, but he simply redressed in his own clothing and left the room, shutting the door against the mess of the morning’s tantrum.

Semi didn’t want to be there. He hadn’t wanted to do the mission, hadn’t wanted to infiltrate the Jedi Temple, and yet now he didn’t want to be on their Star Destroyer, either. He wanted things to go back to normal, to the way they were before Tendou had strengthened his lofty ambitions, before he’d seen fit to take an apprentice. 

Semi was so tired of all of this.

He wandered around for half an hour before he found Shirabu. If he’d been trying, he would have found him sooner. 

Shirabu was on an isolated part of the ship, in one of the rooms reserved for the rare prisoner that was kept alive. Goshiki was secured to a table, metal cuffs biting into his wrists and ankles. He struggled against the restraints, teeth gnashing against his gag, blazing eyes scorching into Shirabu, who stood over him with a distinct lack of expression.

“What are you doing to him?” said Semi, his voice haggard.

Goshiki whipped his head toward the door, eyes flying wide.

“Just getting a feel of his mind,” said Shirabu. 

“Did you have to tie him down like that?”

“He tried to fight me,” said Shirabu. “It was necessary.”

“Of course he tried to fight you,” snapped Semi. “We just kidnapped him. Do you really think he’s going to sit back and accept it?”

Shirabu peeled his stare away from Goshiki. He folded his arms and studied Semi with a raised brow. “You look terrible. Your thoughts are bedlam. You need to get yourself together, Semi.”

“I’m the last thing you should be worried about.”

“I’m not worried about you,” said Shirabu. “I’m only concerned that your unhinged state of mind will impact our mission.”

“What mission?” said Semi. “The mission is over.”

“Only the first part of it,” said Shirabu. “The Grand Master is dead. That was our first priority.” He pressed two fingers against Goshiki’s forehead and the boy went rigid. “Now I have a new apprentice to break in.”

“That wasn’t the plan,” said Semi. “We’re supposed to use him as a bargaining chip, to get to Ushijima.”

“That was a plan hatched between you and Darth Masakh,” said Shirabu. He narrowed his eyes at Goshiki, who was paling. “Now that he is gone, I no longer have a Master. That means I am to become one, and no Master is complete without an apprentice. You told Masakh that the boy was weak-willed enough to steal away without a fight. That suggests he can easily be turned.”

Goshiki squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, shouting into his gag.

“Stop it,” said Semi, stalking closer. “Leave him in peace.”

“This is not your concern,” said Shirabu, pressing his fingers more firmly against Goshiki’s pallid forehead. “Unless you would like to be my apprentice instead. Is that it, Semi? Are you jealous that you are, once again, getting pushed aside?”

Semi scuffed to a halt, hands curled into fists. “Tendou never pushed me aside.”

“Didn’t he?” said Shirabu. He broke the contact with Goshiki, and the boy’s taut muscles released. His head lolled to the side, and Shirabu smoothed his hair back in a sick suggestion of fondness. “When Masakh chose me as his apprentice, when he made me Sith, you had to step back. If you hadn’t, your death would have been inevitable. There can only be two Sith at any given time. The rule of two. I was chosen, and you were pushed aside.”

“That isn’t true,” said Semi, the words grinding between his teeth. “I worked with Tendou, but I was never Sith. I never wanted to be.”

Shirabu’s brows rose. “I don’t remember it that way. I was told that before my arrival, you were called Darth Sombran.”

Semi’s jaw clenched. “Where did you hear that?”

“Kawanishi told me,” said Shirabu. “Deny it all you like, but I know you were a Sith Lord, Semi. You pulled away from the Dark Side just enough to keep your own life when I rose up to replace you, but you still wanted it, didn’t you?”

Goshiki’s eyes cracked open, floating hazily toward Semi.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Semi. “You know nothing about me.”

“I know more than you’d care to admit,” said Shirabu. “I know you’re going to fall apart without Masakh here to hold you together.”

“That isn’t true.”

“We’ll see,” said Shirabu. He studied Semi, face unchanging. “Perhaps you’ll prove me wrong, but I think not. I can sense the state of your mind. It’s shattering, piece by piece.”

“I’m fine,” snarled Semi, a flame of rage licking at the hollowness in his chest. “Stay away from my mind.” A scalding energy rippled through the room, tasting of bitter anger and desperation. 

Goshiki tugged weakly at his bindings. Shirabu didn’t flinch, but he mentally withdrew. 

“As you wish,” said Shirabu. “Spiral into madness alone. I hear the descent is agony.”

Semi ground his teeth and didn’t respond. 

“You were right about the boy’s power.” Shirabu returned his attention to Goshiki, again reaching for his forehead. “His potential is admirable. The Force is strong with him.”

“Stop stabbing into his mind. Don’t hurt him.”

Shirabu paused with his fingers floating an inch above Goshiki’s skull. “Why do you care? Did you grow fond of him while you were playing Jedi?”

“Of course not. I don’t care anything about him.” Semi flexed his fingers, the joints stiff. “If you really want to bring him over, the only way to do it is with time. He will come around on his own. The more you push, the more resistant he will be, and the more you will damage his mind. He’s stubborn to a fault, just like Ushijima. He’ll fight against you just for the sake of fighting. Back off and let him come around. You don’t want to train a mentally addled apprentice.”

Shirabu considered that, hand still hovering just above Goshiki’s head. Slowly he withdrew, eyeing Semi with narrow suspicion.

Semi braced himself, waited to feel the dagger of Shirabu’s consciousness stabbing into his own.

But Shirabu didn’t pry, and when he moved toward the door, Semi stepped aside to let him pass.

“I’ll give him a week,” said Shirabu. “If you can convince him in that span of time, then I will begin his training. If you cannot, then I will turn him by any means necessary. We will have the boy on our side, one way or another. He will help us burn the Jedi Order to the ground.”

Shirabu left the room, and the door slid shut behind him

Semi turned back toward Goshiki with great reluctance. The boy watched him, stare a little foggy, but unmistakably present.

“He won’t hurt you,” said Semi. “As long as you go along with him, he won’t hurt you.”

Goshiki mumbled something into his gag, the words twisted and muffled.

Semi stepped forward and peeled it away from his face, saliva stringing away. Goshiki turned his head to the side and spat over the edge of the table. He licked his raw, dry lips and said, “I’ll die before I go to the Dark Side.”

Semi had known that already. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy, yet he felt what was left of his heart sink down to the floor.

Shirabu was going to rip Goshiki’s mind apart.

“You should reconsider,” said Semi. “You’ll do it no matter what. Shirabu will make sure of that. The destination will be the same, but it’s up to you whether you’ll arrive as yourself or as a monster he’s created.”

Goshiki shook his head, his upper lip curling to bare his teeth. “I won’t. I don’t care what he does. I’m a Jedi. I’ll always be a Jedi. He can kill me if he wants, but I’ll die a Jedi.”

“You’re not a Jedi,” said Semi. “You’re just a stupid kid. Think about it. You have a week to change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

“We’ll see,” said Semi. “I’ll have someone bring you food. I’ll be back to discuss this with you tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother,” said Goshiki. “My answer will be the same.”

Semi knew that already. He knew changing Goshiki’s mind without strong Force interference was highly unlikely.

Still, he would try.

He thought about slipping the gag back into the boy’s mouth, but decided against it. He was halfway to the door when Goshiki said, “Master Ushijima helped you. How could you do this to him?”

“Don’t talk about what you don’t understand. Your blind loyalty to the Jedi is going to get you killed.”

“I would rather be dead than be a traitor like you.”

Semi stopped, the accusation singeing along his nerve endings. He turned on his heel and stomped back across the room. 

Maybe Goshiki should remain gagged, after all. 


	2. Chapter 2

A day trickled by, then two. If Semi got any sleep, it was huddled in the corner of the room with his back against the wall, because still he couldn’t bring himself to get into his bed. _Their_ bed.

There were hundreds of other people aboard the star destroyer, yet solitude slowly suffocated him like the airless press of space.

He avoided everyone as much as possible – Shirabu in particular – and only emerged from his room to travel to the holding cell where Goshiki was kept. He knew doing even that was a waste of time, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the boy completely. Semi was the one who’d brought him there, after all. He’d convinced Goshiki to trust him, leaving him vulnerable to Semi’s mind tricks. 

That had been one of the primary purposes of the mission. Semi had only accomplished his tasks. He shouldn’t feel guilty.

But if he’d failed, maybe Tendou would still be with him.

Semi had figured out their prisoner’s routine easily. A couple of times a day, Goshiki’s bonds were loosened so he could eat and relieve himself. Shirabu was always present in case the boy tried to fight his way out.

Inevitably, he tried every single time.

“You’re making things worse for yourself,” said Semi. 

He sat beside the table where Goshiki had been strapped down once again. The boy scowled up at the ceiling, a bruise already darkening beneath his eye. 

One of Shirabu’s men had slammed the butt of a blaster into his face. Considering how much worse it could have been, a bruise wasn’t all that bad. Not nearly as bad as the punishment Shirabu had inflicted on him afterwards, when his temper had snapped. Semi hadn’t been in the room, but he’d felt the hot wash of Shirabu’s rage from halfway across the ship.

Semi had waited until afterwards to come talk to him, because he wanted nothing to do with Shirabu.

When Semi tentatively reached out toward Goshiki’s mind, he felt a mess of shivering aches and raw edges. Semi had never been on the receiving end of Shirabu’s torture, but he’d witnessed the ferocity of it firsthand.

That could have been worse, too. Shirabu must have remembered Semi’s advice from before, because he’d backed off before any permanent damage had settled in.

“If you would just do what he says, this would be easy for you,” said Semi. “You’ll still be trained in the Force. Shirabu has his issues, but he’s strong. Even I can’t deny that. He’s stronger than the Jedi.”

Goshiki shook his head. His hands balled into helpless fists, thrashing weakly against his restraints. “No, he’s not. Master Ushijima is stronger than him. Master Ushijima is stronger than anyone. He’ll come get me.”

“He doesn’t know where you are,” said Semi, rubbing at his tired eyes. “He could scour the galaxies for decades and never find you. You’ve been cut off, Tsutomu. You’re not part of the Jedi Order anymore. You’re going to turn Sith, one way or another. Shirabu will make sure of that.”

“I won’t,” said Goshiki, just as he said every time they repeated this conversation. His resolve was as strong as ever. “I don’t care what you do to me. I won’t.”

“I’m not going to do anything to you. This isn’t my fight. Not anymore.” Semi looked down at the floor. “I’m just trying to help you. I already know how this is going to turn out. There’s only one possible outcome.”

“I’ll get out of here,” said Goshiki. Semi didn’t know if the boy had even heard what he’d said. His single-minded determination was both impressive and exasperating. “I’ll get out, and then the Jedi will destroy you. All of you. The Light Side will win.”

Semi huffed a breath. “The Jedi have brainwashed you well, haven’t they?” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “They tried to do the same to me. It would’ve worked, if it hadn’t been for…”

He words turned to ash on his tongue. As much effort as he’d been putting into keeping his thoughts on a certain path, they’d strayed off into dangerous territory with little prompting.

Goshiki didn’t notice his dilemma.

“I haven’t been brainwashed!” he said, nearly shouting. “The Jedi are the bringers of peace and good! It’s the Sith who’ve been brainwashed by the Dark Side. It takes everything good away from them. It leaves them filled with anger and hatred.”

Anger and hatred. Semi knew much about anger and hatred.

A moment passed. Quietly, Semi asked, “Hey, Tsutomu? When I was younger, the Jedi didn’t kill their prisoners. Is that still how they do things?”

“The Jedi only take life when it’s unavoidable,” said Goshiki. It sounded like he was reciting a line from a textbook, or more likely, from Ushijima’s mouth. “Unnecessary killing is not the Jedi way. We respect all forms of life. Unlike you.”

That last jab didn’t even sting. Semi was too busy pushing down his own relief.

He hadn’t heard Tendou’s voice in his head at all since his first day back on the ship. He was worried that Tendou had been killed after all, and that somehow, Semi hadn’t felt his death. Knowing that he was in the hands of the Jedi was bad enough, but thinking he may be dead...

Belatedly, Semi realized the silence had dragged too long. He looked up to find Goshiki watching him, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Whatever you’re plotting,” said Goshiki, “isn’t going to work.”

“You don’t have to be so suspicious,” said Semi. “I told you I’m not going to do anything to you.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“About what?”

“None of your concern.”

Goshiki rolled his head to the other side, away from Semi. “Why do you keep coming here? It doesn’t matter what you say. I won’t change my mind.”

“I know,” said Semi. “I still have to try.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve the things Shirabu will do to you.” Semi stretched his legs out in front of him. They were still stiff from a night spent on the floor. “You won’t be the same, Tsutomu. I don’t think you understand. You won’t be yourself anymore.”

“I’ll always be myself,” insisted Goshiki. “I’ll always be Jedi.”

Semi wanted to slap him. His stubbornness and single-mindedness was exhausting.

Ushijima would have been proud.

Semi shook his head, diverting his thoughts away from Ushijima, as well. Thinking of him only led Semi’s mind back to Tendou again, and he couldn’t afford to think too much about him. Not if he wanted to keep his sanity.

It may have been slipping, but for now, it was still in one piece.

“You’re not angry,” said Goshiki. Semi looked up at him. Goshiki was staring at him again, this time with more intensity. “You are, but it’s just on the surface. You’re… sad.”

Semi stood, feet hitting the floor as a burst of energy pulsed from his mind. Goshiki winced and turned his face away, pulling uselessly at his bonds.

“Don’t try and read my feelings,” snapped Semi. “Don’t try and read anything about me.” He stomped toward the door, his temper gnawing at him like a starving wolf.

“I don’t know why you’re sad,” said Goshiki, “when you got what you wanted. You killed the Grand Master. You captured me. What is there for you to be sad about?” He said it with an edge of scorn, his glare cutting into Semi from across the room.

“That isn’t what I wanted.” Semi’s voice was low, lethal. “None of this is what I wanted. I didn’t care if the Grand Master lived or died. I don’t care about any of this. I only care about one thing, and now I don’t even have that.” He slapped the panel by the door and it slid open. “Maybe I will just let Shirabu handle you. That would be easier for everyone.” 

He entered the corridor in a fury, ignoring Goshiki’s eyes on his back. He should do as he said and forget about the boy. It wasn’t his concern. If Shirabu was busy with Goshiki, then he would have less time to irritate Semi. Semi could just wait until they made a pit stop on a halfway decent planet, get off the ship, and never look back. He could start over, forget everything he’d done, and pretend to be someone new.

It would be the best choice for him, yet even as he stormed through the hallways back to his room of solitude, he knew he would still try to talk sense into Goshiki the following day.

  
  
  
  
  
Semi woke with a start. He flailed forward and barely stopped himself from tilting into the floor. He gripped the arms of the chair, heart beating too fast, mind pulsing with panic.

“You were only asleep for thirty seconds. How did you have a nightmare that fast?”

Semi whipped his head up to find Goshiki watching him, strapped to the table as always, brow creased as he studied Semi.

“I didn’t.” Semi sat up straighter in the chair and tried to ignore the hot spike of adrenaline in his blood. “I wasn’t asleep.”

“I wasn’t even trying to touch your mind,” said Goshiki, “and I still felt it. You were scared. What scared you?”

“Shut up,” snapped Semi. “I wasn’t asleep. I wasn’t scared.”

Goshiki blinked at him, innocent and curious. “Who is Tendou?” 

Semi barely stopped himself from lunging at the boy. He gripped the chair even more tightly, knuckles aching. “What?”

“Tendou,” repeated Goshiki, as if the sound of the name itself didn’t rip Semi to shreds. “You yelled that just before you woke up. Not an actual yell, but in your head. I heard it in my head too, like you were broadcasting it. Who’s Tendou?”

Semi sat back and closed his eyes, trying to corral his thoughts. If they’d been scattered enough to reach Goshiki the second he’d nodded off, then he was slipping more than he’d thought. “Just someone I know,” he said, trying to shrug off the question.

“Someone you know,” repeated Goshiki. He considered that in silence, then said, “Someone you’re scared for.”

Semi wanted to deny that too, but there was no point. He’d never been more terrified, and he was too tired to pretend otherwise. “Yes.”

“Why?” asked Goshiki. “Where is he?”

“Captured,” said Semi. He couldn’t consider the alternative, though he still had heard nothing from Tendou. It was the longest they’d gone without communication for years, since they were kids aspiring to become Jedi.

“Oh,” said Goshiki. The moment wore on, punctuated by Semi’s too-quick heartbeats. Goshiki added, almost too quietly to hear, “Like me.”

Something inside of Semi fractured. Shame, thick and bitter, rose in his throat like bile.

He’d been worrying himself to the brink of madness over Tendou. He hadn’t considered that perhaps, somewhere thousands of light years away, Ushijima Wakatoshi was doing the same for his Padawan. Maybe, just like Semi, Ushijima was losing sleep, wondering if Goshiki was still a prisoner or if he’d been disposed of.

Semi hated the Jedi. He’d hated them since he and Tendou had absconded from the Order. Even so, he couldn’t suppress the crackle of guilt when he considered Ushijima, when he thought of causing someone to suffer in the same way that Semi himself was suffering. He wouldn’t wish this sort of emotional pain on anyone, not even the great Jedi Master Ushijima Wakatoshi.

“The Jedi don’t kill their prisoners,” said Semi, mostly to himself. That was his only comfort, the only thing that was keeping him stitched together.

Ushijima didn’t have that reassurance. The Sith had no such reservations about killing.

“Semi? I can feel your mind again, it’s…”

Semi gritted his teeth and reigned his thoughts in, sealing them away inside his skull. Until several days before, he’d always had perfect control over himself. The loss of control should scare him, but he already had too many things to worry about. He didn’t have time to add this one to the list.

Goshiki raised his head, eyeing Semi with a frown. “Your thoughts feel… I mean, I wasn’t trying to reach out for them, they just… Are you going to be okay?”

Semi was fairly certain he would never be okay again.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

He knew it was a lie, and judging from the way Goshiki looked at him, he knew, as well.

  
  
  
  
  
Hours bled by. Semi waited until most of the ship’s activity had calmed for the night. There were still Storm Troopers milling about on their scheduled patrols and several engineers assigned to different areas of the ship to make sure everything ran smoothly. 

He waited until it was late enough that Shirabu should have been asleep, and Kawanishi should have retired until morning. Only then did he slip into the control room, which was manned only by a trio of engineers at that late hour. They were gathered at a small table, a trio of many-sided die resting amid a scatter of square cards.

They looked up from their game as Semi entered, startled by his appearance. 

Kawanishi no longer respected him, but the rest of the crew hadn’t yet lost their deference. It was more fear than respect, but at that moment, Semi would take what he could get.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said, stepping closer. He moved slowly, casually. “I’m just checking in, to make sure everything is going smoothly.”

The men settled, still uncomfortable by his presence, but not panicked. “Of course,” said one of them. “Everything is fine.”

Semi nodded. “That’s good to hear.” He drew nearer, rested his hands on the back of a chair, and looked down at them. He focused his scattered mind and honed in on the three men, pushing his influence onto them. “You should take a break. I’ll watch the control room for a little while. You will return in half an hour. You will forget I was here.”

They didn’t immediately respond, and Semi pushed harder. After a teetering second in which he thought the command wouldn’t be received, they murmured in unison, “We will take a break. We will return in half an hour. We will forget you were here.”

Semi stepped back as the trio rose and started toward the door. Only when they were in the hallway, with the door shut firmly in their wake, did he approach the panel that stretched across two sides of the room. It had the means to control everything on the ship. Anything could be done from this room. If Semi had chosen to do so, he could have flown them directly into the nearest star and killed them all.

It crossed his mind, but only fleetingly. He wasn’t here for a suicide run, and if he’d truly been set on it, Shirabu would have sensed his ill intent and swooped in to stop him.

He was only there for one thing.

Semi ignored the ship controls and stepped up to the communications panel. He’d used it on a number of occasions, and his fingers moved on autopilot as he keyed in the request and patched it through. A holographic screen glowed to life, and at first it was blank. Then the face of a female appeared, someone he didn’t recognize.

“Coruscant communications,” she said. She was Twi’lek, with only a hint of an accent suggesting her native language was not the one she currently spoke. “How can I assist you?”

“I need to speak to Ushijima Wakatoshi at the Jedi Temple,” said Semi. He gripped the edge of the dash to ground himself. He knew he was making a mistake, but he also knew he was going to do it anyway. “Immediately. It’s urgent.”

She was unimpressed. “I apologize, but I cannot patch you through.”

Semi had been expecting that. He took a breath and said, “This is Semi Eita. I know the location of Ushijima’s missing Padawan. He will want to speak with me.”

Semi could tell little about the woman from the holographic screen, but he did know that he’d gotten through to her. The inflection of her voice remained unchanging, but she said, “Please hold.”

The screen went blank again, but the hologram still hummed, the connection unbroken. Semi waited impatiently, tapping his fingers against the dash, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure no one had entered the room while his back was turned.

After five minutes that felt like the passing of an eternity, a different face appeared before him.

This one he recognized.

“Ushijima.”

“Semi Eita.” The voice was deep and clear, unmuffled by the light years that stood between them. “I assume you have a good reason to contact me.”

A threat brewed beneath those words, and regardless of Ushijima’s inability to reach him, it still put Semi on edge.

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t waste my time,” said Semi. He checked over his shoulder again. He was still alone. “Goshiki is alive. He’s on our ship. He hasn’t been hurt.” 

_Not much. Not yet._

Ushijima studied him through the screen. Semi wondered if the Jedi Master could sense his crippling desperation by sight alone.

“Why have you told me this?” asked Ushijima.

“Because…” Semi trailed off, a dozen different endings to that sentence blaring in his head.

_Because he’s your Padawan._

_Because you deserve to know._

_Because the guilt is eating me alive._

“Where are you?” asked Ushijima. “I will come get him.”

Semi laughed. It was humorless, almost manic. “As if I could tell you,” he said. “It’s bad enough that I’ve contacted you at all. That’s all the information I can give you.”

Ushijima’s brow furrowed. Semi felt the weight of his stare even through the hologram. “Are you being held against your will also?”

Semi felt the insane urge to laugh again. He bit down on the inside of his cheek, so hard that he tasted blood. “Of course not,” he said. “This is where I belong.”

“Have you only contacted me to boast?” asked Ushijima. “You fooled me, Semi Eita. You fooled me, and took advantage of my kindness. You manipulated me. Is that what you’ve come to brag about?”

“No,” said Semi. Those things were all true, but he didn’t want to think of them. He’d only done what Tendou had asked of him. “I just wanted to tell you Goshiki is safe.” He hesitated, gripping the dash so tightly that his fingers shook, the metallic tang of blood heavy on his tongue. “And maybe… Would you tell me about… about Tendou? Is he…?” Semi couldn’t finish the question, but he didn’t have to. There was no mistaking what he meant.

“Tendou Satori is alive,” said Ushijima.

Relief knocked the breath from Semi’s lungs. His legs quaked, but he held onto the dash and kept himself upright. 

“What will happen to him?” asked Semi, when he’d collected himself enough to speak. 

“What will happen to Tsutomu?”

Semi’s mouth went dry. He knew exactly what would happen to Goshiki, once his week of mercy had ended. He would live on, but he would be Goshiki no longer. He would be fractured beyond recognition, broken and destroyed.

“He will live,” said Semi.

“In what condition?”

“Don’t,” said Semi. “Don’t put this on me. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want any of it.”

“Then why did you infiltrate the Jedi Order,” said Ushijima, “and bring us to ruins?”

Semi didn’t answer. He’d done it because Tendou had wanted it, and because Semi would do anything for Tendou, but he wasn’t going to say that to Ushijima.

“Tell me where you are,” said Ushijima again, “and I will come for Tsutomu. You will be spared. You have my word.”

Semi had another urge to laugh. He tamped it down, but couldn’t help the twisted grin that split his face. “It’s funny how you think I’m worried about my life.”

Ushijima seemed confused by that. His brow creased more deeply and he studied Semi as if he could find answered printed on his skin. 

There was a sound behind Semi, the distinct slide of a door. He slapped a hand against the panel to end the call and the holograph flickered away. He spun to find Shirabu in the doorway, Kawanishi staring over his shoulder.

“What,” said Shirabu, his words clipped, “are you doing?” If he’d just been woken, there was no indication. He was as composed as ever.

“Nothing,” said Semi. He tried to come up with a cover story, an excuse, but could think of nothing believable. Shirabu would know he was lying.

Shirabu raised a hand, unrushed, calm.

The weight of the Force cinched tight around Semi’s throat.

Semi tried to suck in a breath and only managed a desperate gasp. He clawed at his throat, trying to dig into the suffocating energy, and only succeeded in gouging bloody marks into his own flesh.

He gritted his teeth and harnessed his own burst of Force, slamming it against Shirabu, loosening his hold just enough to suck in a weak breath.

Then the grip around his neck returned, even more tightly, and brought Semi to his knees. He felt Shirabu standing over him, but he couldn’t see him. His vision flickered, a whirl of dancing shadows.

Shirabu said something, but his voice was a wordless press against Semi’s ears, barely audible amid the loud ringing.

Without warning, the pressure vanished.

Semi collapsed, choking on his desperate breaths, clutching at his abused throat with one shaking hand.

“You’re getting weaker,” said Shirabu. He braced a boot against Semi’s shoulder and shoved him onto his back. “You’ve been weakening since the day I started my training, but since you came back from Coruscant, you’re an embarrassment. The Dark Side of the Force is pulling away from you, and the Light Side won’t take you back.”

Semi coughed, his lungs burning, saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth. 

“Without Masakh,” said Shirabu, “you are nothing. You are useless to me.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the door. “You will stay away from the main floors of the ship. We will reach Korriban in two days. You will be given a ship and sent on your way. I will not kill you, as one last favor to Darth Masakh. He saved me from a life of mediocrity, and with this, my debt to him is paid.” He paused in the doorway beside Kawanishi and said, “I will begin training my apprentice tomorrow. If you try to interfere, I will show no more mercy.”

With that he was gone. Instead it was Kawanishi standing over him, offering a hand to help Semi to his feet.

Semi slapped it away and crawled upright by himself, one hand still guarding his throat. His voice was a pained rasp when he said, “Get away from me.”

Kawanishi said nothing. He only stepped back and watched Semi stumble out of the control room. 

Semi hardly remembered the journey back to his room. It was a blur of metallic walls and pain, both mental and physical.

He’d known he wasn’t strong enough to kill Shirabu, but he’d thought he could at least protect his own life.

Shirabu was right. He was useless.

Semi staggered across the floor of his room, which was still a veritable disaster. He collapsed onto his bed for the first time since Coruscant, too weak to resist the urge. He shuffled over to Tendou’s side and buried his face in the pillow.

It didn’t smell like Tendou anymore, and that was the last thing that Semi could take. He’d been holding on for days, grasping at threads, barely keeping himself together. Now there was no point. He’d lost everything, and no matter how much he denied it, that loss had shattered him.

He sobbed into Tendou’s pillow, and when sleep finally took him, it was a great mercy.


	3. Chapter 3

Semi woke to warm breath on his face and a soothing voice in his ear. “Good morning, Semi-Semi.”

Semi grumbled a string of sticky syllables that didn’t form actual words, turning his face further into the pillow.

There was a low chuckle, and the breath on his face morphed into a featherlight touch. “Come on now. I know you don’t like mornings, and you look like you haven’t slept in ten years, but I need to talk to you. Just for a minute.”

“’M tired,” murmured Semi. “Later, Tendou.”

“There won’t be a later,” he said. “Eita. Please.”

It was a rare occasion on which Tendou used Semi’s given name. The sound of it dragged him out of his tired haze, woke him enough to recognize the deep, debilitating ache in his core.

It made Semi alert, and all at once, he remembered.

He sat up quickly enough to leave him dizzy. Tendou was stretched out beside him, propped up on an elbow. He was grinning, as always, but it was weary, strained. Even as Semi studied him, Tendou’s edges wavered, flickered, like a holograph with a bad connection.

The two of them had been bonded by the Force for years. Semi had seen him like this more times than he could recall, but the projection had always been stable. 

Something was wrong.

“What is this?” said Semi. He looked away to scan the room, sharp eyes darting to every corner. If Shirabu was doing this as some sort of sick joke, Semi wouldn’t care about the difference in strength between them. He would kill Shirabu with his bare hands, with or without the Force.

“Don’t be so jumpy,” said Tendou. “It’s just me.”

“No, it’s not.”

Tendou rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Semi-Semi. Do I have to prove it to you? I can tell you about something only the two of us know. Like that time we got stranded on Tattooine, and that Rhodian thought you were a slave and tried to buy you. I cut his throat in the middle of the street, and afterwards we went back to our room over the bar and-”

“Stop,” said Semi. He couldn’t think about what they did at Tattooine. He couldn’t endure the pain of the good memories. “What are you doing here? Why haven’t you been here before? I thought you were dead, Tendou. I thought-”

“You knew I wasn’t dead,” said Tendou, cutting him short. “Don’t lie to me, pretty boy.”

A stab of pain pierced Semi’s chest. It was worse agony than any physical wound. Tendou hadn’t called him that in years, not since Shirabu had come along and monopolized his time.

“What do you want?” asked Semi. His voice was hoarse.

“Why did you contact Ushijima?” asked Tendou. “He said you just told him that his Padawan is alive and cut the transmission.”

Semi’s hands clenched in the sheets. “Ushijima told you to ask me that.”

“Obviously,” said Tendou. He glanced off to the side, at something Semi couldn’t see. “He’s here right now. Say hi, Wakatoshi.”

“What are you _doing_?”

Tendou sighed. “I didn’t reach out to you before because I couldn’t. Ushijima found a way to pin down our Force Bond. We always thought he was strong, but we really had no idea, did we?”

Tendou flickered again, nearly disappearing completely before reforming. Semi reached out to touch his hand, but his fingers passed straight through.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Tendou frowned down at their hands, seemingly existing in the same space, yet so far apart. 

“Is Ushijima doing this, too?” asked Semi. “Making the bond weaker?”

“No. This isn’t Ushijima.” Tendou looked up at him, solemn. “This is you, Semi-Semi.”

“What? I’m not-”

“Your connection with the Force is too weak,” said Tendou.

Semi’s breath left him. If he got too weak, if he could no longer hang onto his bond with Tendou-

“Okay, okay, I hear you,” said Tendou, waving off someone on his side of the connection. “Sorry, Semi-Semi. That’s a conversation for another time. Ushijima wants to know if his Padawan is safe.”

“Yes,” said Semi. “Goshiki is fine.”

“He also wants to know where you are,” said Tendou. His mouth tilted into a twisted grin.

“Even if I told you where we are, you wouldn’t tell him,” said Semi.

Tendou tilted his head, humming to himself. “Maybe not,” he said. “Then again, maybe Wakatoshi made me an offer I can’t refuse. Either way, I have to ask. It was the only way he would let me talk to you.” His smile softened. “And I’ve missed talking to you, Semi-Semi.”

Semi’s heart had already been ripped out of his chest. Now it was shredded into pieces, pain tearing through him like a flurry of blades.

“Satori,” he said, a bare whisper. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Whatever you have to,” said Tendou. He glanced off to the side again, at Ushijima. “They’re not going to kill me, so don’t worry about that. Just worry about keeping yourself alive. What’s Shirabu planning?”

Semi opened his mouth to answer, hesitated. “Are you asking for yourself, or for Ushijima?”

Tendou raised a brow and said nothing.

It was answer enough.

“Where are they keeping you?” said Semi. “I’ll come get you. I didn’t want to leave you there. Shirabu wouldn’t go back. He wouldn’t listen to me. He still won’t listen to me. I’ll take a ship and-”

“Stop it, Eita,” said Tendou. “You’re not coming to get me.”

“But I-”

“You’ll die trying,” said Tendou. “Don’t even think about it.”

Semi just stared at him. Tendou flickered again, and it was a few eternal seconds before he faded back into view.

“Focus, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou. His eyes were a little too wide. “Hold onto me, alright?”

Semi nodded. HIs lungs screamed, and he realized it had been a long few minutes since he’d breathed.

“Ushijima is willing to make a deal,” said Tendou, “in exchange for his Padawan. Tell Shirabu to contact him.”

“He won’t,” said Semi. “Shirabu wants Goshiki to be his new apprentice. He’s going to break him down until he turns to the Dark Side.”

Tendou’s shoulders went stiff. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“He doesn’t care.”

Tendou looked at Ushijima and then back at Semi. “What’s his next move?”

“I just told you.”

“What,” repeated Tendou, “is his next move?”

Semi understood. Tendou couldn’t repeat what he’d said about Goshiki. Ushijima would not handle the news well.

“He almost killed me last night,” said Semi. It wasn’t the information that Tendou had asked for, but it needed to be said. “A few more seconds would have done it. I don’t know what he’s doing anymore, Satori. He doesn’t want me here. He’s going to banish me as soon as we get back to Korriban.”

Tendou went eerily still. Semi couldn’t feel him, not like he used to, but he saw the danger in the razorblade shine of Tendou’s eyes. “Shirabu did _what_?”

“I don’t know what to do,” said Semi. He reached for Tendou’s hand again, though he knew it was pointless. “Tell me what to do.”

“Eita.” Tendou reached for him as well, their fingers meeting in midair. Semi’s hand passed straight through. He felt nothing. “You have to get out of there. If he leaves you at Korriban, you won’t survive. Not the way that you are now. You have to _get out_.” Tendou shoved at something Semi couldn’t see, his face twisting into a snarl. “I don’t care about your Padawan!” he shouted. “The boy can die on that ship for all I care.” He whipped his head back toward Semi. “Listen to me, Eita. You have to go, you can’t – Ushijima, no, don’t – not yet, just – please – Eita!”

Tendou disappeared, and this time Semi knew he wouldn’t be back. His voice still rang in Semi’s skull like a distant echo.

Semi dropped his hand and slumped over on the bed, wishing he could have felt Tendou’s warmth across the distance.

If he continued getting weaker in the Force, he would never see Tendou again. That’s exactly what would happen if he followed Tendou’s advice and ran away. He could hide on some unknown planet and live out the rest of his life, but it would be a life without Tendou. 

Semi refused to live without Tendou. That was why he’d turned his back on the Jedi, even though they’d offered a promising future. It was why he’d embraced the Dark Side of the Force, even when he was uncertain about the consequences. It was why he’d helped Tendou build an army, why he’d sacrificed his morals and his dreams and everything good about himself.

Semi wasn’t going to live without Tendou. He would prefer for his life to end.

He closed his eyes and thought about what Tendou had said, about Ushijima offering to make a deal. He thought about Shirabu’s stubbornness, Goshiki’s potential, and Tendou wasting away somewhere underground, cold and alone.

He thought of his own weakness, and hated himself for it.

There was no easy way out of this mess. There was perhaps no way out at all. But Semi refused to let things end this way, and he would do what he must.

If he happened to die in the process, so be it.

  
  
  
  
  
Semi knew when Shirabu had begun his attempt to break Goshiki. The malicious energy crackled through the ship like lightning. It sent a current of unease down Semi’s spine, the black energy soaking into his pores.

He sat in the corner of his room, knees pulled against his chest, and wondered how long Goshiki would last. The boy was tenacious. Semi had bent his mind easily back on Corsucant, when they’d kidnapped him from the Jedi Temple, but only because Goshiki had trusted him. If the boy had known Semi was a vessel of the Dark Side, he would not have been so easy to sway. Goshiki despised Shirabu and everything he stood for, and turning him to the Dark Side was much more significant than simply coaxing him into following a simple set of instructions. 

Goshiki wouldn’t hold out forever, but Semi hoped he would at least last through the day. 

Minutes dragged into an hour, and then into two. The passing time meant Goshiki hadn’t yet been broken, but it also meant he was being pushed ever closer to his limit. He was strong, and Ushijima had taught him well, but no one was invincible. 

All at once, with no warning and no prompting, the spine-chilling Force energy vanished. Semi hadn’t noticed the weight it had stacked on his shoulders until it was gone. He sat up straighter and held his breath, pushing his senses beyond the room, searching.

He felt nothing. 

He cursed himself, angry at his own lack of ability. He’d been strong in the Force once; strong enough to resurrect the way of the Sith alongside Tendou, strong enough to start their own uprising against the Jedi.

Now he had nothing. He was nothing. The Force had given up on him.

That, or he’d given up on the Force.

Semi rose, slowly, and paced the length of the room, trying not to think too much of Tendou or Goshiki or anything at all. It would do him no good to think of it, because he could do nothing about it. 

Not yet.

  
  
  
  
  
Semi waited as late as possible, just as he’d done the night before. It hadn’t worked out for him then, but he thought that must have been because of his own mistake. The men he’d coerced out of the control room had likely snapped out of their Force-induced daze too soon. Semi hadn’t been strong enough to hold them, and they would have ran to fetch Kawanishi immediately.

At least, Semi hoped that was what had happened. If it was of any other cause, then Shirabu may catch him again tonight.

This time Semi knew he wouldn’t walk away with his life.

When he slipped out of his room, he didn’t head to the control room. Instead he went a level lower, to the holding cells.

He paused outside Goshiki’s room, took a steadying breath, and pressed the panel to open the door.

Goshiki wasn’t on the table.

“What are you doing down here?”

Semi whipped his head toward the voice, and his stomach sank. A single Storm Trooper sat in the corner, a blaster resting across his knees. At his feet was a crumpled heap that Semi distantly recognized as Goshiki.

Semi’s mind churned, spiraled, and he managed to say, “Shi- Darth Kal sent me down to check the boy’s status.” 

The Storm Trooper shrugged. “He hasn’t moved. Darth Kal said he wouldn’t. He didn’t even bother strapping him down this time.”

Semi moved closer, keeping his approach slow despite the racing beat of his heart. He circled around Goshiki, sparing only a fleeting glance at his face. He was unconscious, and much too pale. He’d vomited on the floor a few paces away and no one had bothered to clean it up.

“Must have been rough on him, huh?” asked Semi conversationally as he idly wandered closer to the guard.

“I wasn’t around, but I heard he screamed his throat raw,” said the Storm Trooper. “I did see Darth Kal afterwards. He didn’t seem pleased.”

That, at least, was a comfort.

So was the familiar weight of the lightsaber in Semi’s palm as he sliced it through the Storm Trooper’s neck.

The guard slumped off of the chair, the blaster clattering to the floor. It was loud, but still Goshiki didn’t stir.

Semi retracted the blade and hooked the lightsaber back on his belt. He knelt at Goshiki’s side, pressing his fingers against the boy’s neck, huffing a breath of relief when he felt a pulse flutter against his fingertips.

“Tsutomu,” he said, lightly shaking the boy’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

Goshiki flopped onto his back, still unconscious. Semi would have liked to think he was just lost in a deep sleep, but he knew that wasn’t the cause.

Reluctantly, he reached out and laid a hand on Goshiki’s forehead. From his room across the ship, he hadn’t been able to feel Goshiki at all. Now, with direct contact, he could get through to him even in his weakened state. 

What he found in Goshiki’s mind almost made him recoil.

It was a maze of torment, his thoughts knotted into gnarled claws, the walls shredded with stripes of pain. The agony leaked through the connection, blurring into Semi’s head, and he gritted his teeth against it.

He pushed through, navigated the twists of raw pain and the trenches of despair. He felt his own thoughts flaking away into misery as he reached something beyond the black torture, something that felt more like sunlight than the gaping maw of hell.

“Tsutomu,” said Semi quietly, with both his voice and his mind. “You need to wake up.”

The light stirred, flickered, reached out to his voice. Semi withdrew from Goshiki’s mind slowly, pulling the light along with him, leading it out of the maze.

When he retreated back into himself and opened his eyes, he saw Goshiki staring blearily back.

“Semi?” said Goshiki. The voice sounded nothing like him. His voice was barely a rasp, like the inside of his throat had been scraped raw.

That must have been from the screaming.

“Yes, it’s me,” said Semi. “Can you get up?”

Goshiki flailed weakly, and Semi gripped him by the arm, supporting him as he stood. He wavered on his feet, weak and unsteady. He tried to take a step, failed, and latched onto Semi for support.

“Is he coming back?” asked Goshiki in a raw whisper. 

“No,” said Semi. “He’s not. We’re getting out of here. I’m taking you back to Coruscant.”

Goshiki looked at him with wide eyes. They were a little swollen, ringed by dark circles, and they were still a little distant. Yet Semi recognized him as the boy he’d gotten to know on Coruscant, the one with a bright smile and a brighter future.

“Is this a trick?” said Goshiki. “Is he playing some sort of trick on me?”

“It’s not a trick,” said Semi. “We’re really leaving. Come on, you have to walk. I can’t carry you.”

“But why?”

Semi knelt just long enough to grab the dead Storm Trooper’s blaster before ducking back beneath Goshiki’s arm, holding part of his weight. “Because you don’t belong here. I’m taking you back to Ushijima. Stop asking questions, just come on.”

To Goshiki’s credit, he did try to walk. It was only a moderately successful effort, because his legs were so weak that they gave out every few steps. 

Semi gritted his teeth, shrugged more of Goshiki’s weight onto his shoulders, and kept moving.

They made it to the next floor down without incident. They ducked into unused rooms several times to avoid patrols, but it was simple enough. The guards weren’t expecting to find anyone lurking about, so they weren’t very alert. 

It was when they reached the door to the nearest bay that things got tricky.

“There are always guards at the ships,” said Semi, as he carefully lowered Goshiki to sit on the floor. “I’ll have to fight my way through, and I can’t drag you at the same time.”

“Please don’t leave me here,” said Goshiki, still in that weak rasp. “I can’t do this. If you have to leave me then kill me first. Please.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Semi pressed the blaster into Goshiki’s shaky grip. “More Troopers will rush down here when the alarms go off. If I can’t cut through the guards and get back to you fast enough, you’ll have to cover me. Can you do that?”

Goshiki hefted the blaster in his grip. He could barely lift it. “Yes.”

Semi didn’t believe him, but he had little choice. “Good. Shoot anyone who steps into this hallway. I’ll clear a path and be right back.” He unclipped his lightsaber and held it tightly. “If I don’t come back, it’s because I’m dead. If that happens, don’t let Shirabu get you. Do what you have to do.”

Goshiki’s finger tapped against the edge of the trigger. He nodded.

Semi took one last look at him, opened the door to the bays, and strode inside. 

The guards didn’t react, at first. Semi was a familiar face, one of their own. He’d been there longer than any of them.

They didn’t realize anything was wrong until there was a hum of a lightsaber and three dead men hit the floor.

There was shouting, overlapping voices, panicked dashes for the alarm and for more weapons. Semi knew his power had weakened, but these men didn’t. He tasted their fear on the air. Years before, he would have reveled in it. Now his only thought was completing his duty.

Even if his link with the Force was frail, that did nothing to lessen his prowess in combat. He sliced through every Trooper in range, his blade burning through armor and flesh alike. Someone shot at him from across the room and he ducked behind one of the ships to dodge the blinding bullets.

There was a discarded blaster a few feet away. He reached out with his mind and tried to pull it close.

It didn’t move.

Semi cursed and lunged out of his cover, diving for the blaster, squeezing the trigger as soon as it was in his hand. More Troopers fell, and Semi rushed toward the nearest group, swinging his lightsaber as soon as he was in range.

An alarm blared, above and below and around him. He turned to fire a shot at the Trooper who had set it off, and the man crumpled to the ground. He hoped Goshiki would be fine, but he didn’t have time to think on it. Another pair of Troopers rushed at him, and Semi spun in a quick circle to lash out at them. His saber hummed, the magenta blade blurring in his vision, and the two men fell.

Semi had created his lightsaber alongside Tendou, many years before. Sith sabers were supposed to be red. Even the two of them, who had ran away from the Jedi Order, knew of that tradition.

Semi had never been able to make a red blade. Even if he used the same crystals as Tendou, even if he mimicked his process down to the most insignificant detail, it was never red. Magenta was as close as he’d ever gotten, and for a while he’d felt inadequate because of it. He feared there was something wrong that would prevent him from becoming a true Sith, that would stop him from achieving true power.

Now he didn’t mind so much, because when Shirabu had crafted his first lightsaber, the blade had been crimson.

And Semi wanted to be nothing like Shirabu.

He cut through another quartet of Troopers, pivoted to continue the fight, and found no other opponents to face. He scanned the bay once more, searching, and saw no one. He sprinted toward the doors, just as a burst of blaster fire sizzled from beyond. 

“Tsutomu!” he shouted as he ran, stumbling through the door, saber at the ready.

A cluster of Storm Troopers were piled at the end of the corridor, their armor still smoking. Goshiki looked up at him, the blaster braced against his shoulder in an unsteady grip. 

“Come on,” said Semi. He returned his lightsaber to his belt, because he couldn’t hold it while helping Goshiki to his feet. “We have to hurry.”

They crossed the bay together, Goshiki still leaning heavily on Semi, the blaster limp in his hand. 

A TIE fighter was right in front of them, the ramp already lowered, ready for boarding. They were only a few strides away when the discharge from a blaster sizzled past Semi’s ear.

He looked over his shoulder to find Kawanishi in the doorway, a blaster in hand and a dozen guards at his back.

“Darth Kal said to stop you,” said the General, taking aim. “By any means necessary.”


	4. Chapter 4

The Storm Troopers at Kawanishi’s back fanned out, all of them raising their blasters to target Semi.

“Don’t shoot the boy,” said Kawanishi. “Darth Kal wants him alive.” He raised a brow at Semi. “You aren’t so lucky.”

“Get on the ship,” said Semi, the words sliding between his teeth. He shrugged Goshiki’s arm off of his shoulders, despite the fear that he would collapse. 

Goshiki remained on his feet, though his teetering stance suggested that may not last long.

“I’ll fight with you,” rasped Goshiki. 

“You’ll get on the ship,” snapped Semi. “If Ushijima was here, he would tell you the same thing. Go.”

That convinced him. Goshiki took a step, pitched to one side, and nearly toppled. He planted the barrel of the blaster against the ground as a makeshift crutch and shuffled on.

Semi unclipped the lightsaber from his belt. “Kill me then,” said Semi. “If you can.”

Kawanishi couldn’t fire at him without the risk of hitting Goshiki, but the Troopers who’d moved off to the side had no such reservations. They fired a fusillade of blasts that blew past Semi, so close that the heat scorched his skin. He wielded his weapon as a shield, deflecting some of the blasts, reflecting others back at the shooters, missing a couple that charred his shoulder and his thigh as they blew past.

Two of the Troopers fell, caught by their own refracted blasts, and the others paused to look to Kawanishi.

The General took a step closer. “If you surrender, I won’t kill you.”

“You won’t kill me anyway,” said Semi. “I’m leaving.”

Kawanishi’s face didn’t change. Even now, in such a high-risk situation, he was unshakeable. “We’ll see.” He braced the blaster against his shoulder and squeezed the trigger, just as his Troopers did the same. 

Blasts came from all directions, a flurry of light and heat.

Semi whirled, his blade flashing as it met the blasts, but he couldn’t compete with that many enemies. A few years ago, he could have won this fight easily.

Now, he had no chance.

He deflected most of the shots, but several cut through his defenses. There were buzzes of pain against his flesh, a few grazing his legs, more skimming his arms, one licking at his ear.

Then one blast slammed into his shoulder and pain swallowed him. He went down on one knee, lightsaber still in his grip, jaw clenched against the pain. 

The shooting stopped, and Semi raised his head to find Kawanishi staring down at him. “Last chance.”

“Go to hell,” spat Semi. He tried to raise his blade, but the shooting pain in his shoulder forced him to abort the attempt.

Kawanishi studied him, shrugged, and leveled his blaster at Semi’s head.

From somewhere behind Semi, there was a mechanic whir and a solid click. It sounded like it was coming from the ship that Goshiki had just boarded. It sounded like...

Before Semi could complete the thought, brilliant blasts lit up the bay. Semi flattened himself on the ground, but the attack wasn’t meant for him. The Storm Troopers dropped in seconds, given no time to react. The blasts continued for a long, violent minute, and when the shooting stopped, Kawanishi was the only one left standing. Semi realized he’d only been spared because Semi was between him and the blasters.

The roar of an engine swelled from the ship.

Semi pushed through his pain and regained his feet, facing Kawanishi, who was still armed. He hadn’t flinched in the face of hostile fire. 

“I’m leaving,” Semi repeated. “Back away.”

Kawanishi did not heed the warning. He aimed his blaster again, and Semi’s shoulder screamed when he tried to raise his lightsaber. He couldn’t use it as a shield, he couldn’t get it to his other hand fast enough, and Kawanishi’s finger was already squeezing the trigger.

Semi reached out without thinking, clamping down on the Force, funneling it in Kawanishi’s direction. The blaster flew out of his hands and the shot sailed over Semi’s head. Semi pushed again and Kawanishi flew back, slamming into the wall, held there by the strength of the Force. It hummed around Semi like a lullaby, cradling him in an embrace that was both familiar and foreign.

This was the Force, but not the Force that he’d learned to use alongside Tendou.

This was the Force that had called to him in his childhood, the Force that had led him to the Jedi, the Force that had offered a future of hope and purpose. This was the Force that he’d turned his back on so many years ago. This was the Light Side, lending him power, giving him strength.

Semi struggled to his feet. The Force kept Kawanishi pinned against the wall as Semi backed toward the ship. He snuffed out the blade of his lightsaber and turned, climbing the boarding ramp, yelling at Goshiki to begin take off.

As the landing door closed, Semi felt the surge of Force power leave him.

It didn’t matter. They’d made it onto the ship. They would make it out.

Goshiki sat in the cockpit, prepping the ship with a determination that belied his weakness. Semi joined him, slapped the button that would open the outside bay door, and braced himself as the ship started moving. It rolled toward the exit, and just before it took flight, Semi felt something claw at the back of his mind.

He knew the presence well. He’d felt Shirabu in his head more times than he would have liked. That was undesirable, but it meant he knew how to struggle against him.

Goshiki gave a weak scream, clutching at his temples, eyes squeezed shut. Semi pushed against Shirabu, leaned over the boy, and yanked the lever that would launch them into space.

It wasn’t a steady takeoff, but it was a success. They slipped out of the star destroyer and into the space beyond, Shirabu’s influence weakening as Semi slammed them into hyperdrive. Just before they made the leap, he felt Shirabu so clearly that it was almost a physical presence, like he was breathing down the back of Semi’s neck.

Then the stars in the distance began to blur, and Shirabu was gone.

Semi collapsed in a blend of pain and relief. He gripped his shoulder, and it throbbed in protest, but he didn’t mind. It was proof that they’d made it out. It was proof that they were alive.

Goshiki stirred, peering up at him with tear tracks streaking his face. His lip trembled as he asked, “Did we make it?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. He couldn’t believe what he was saying, couldn’t believe it was the truth. “Yeah, we made it.”

  
  
  
  
  
They arrived at Coruscant three days later. During that time they slept in shifts, and more often than not, Goshiki woke up screaming.

Semi thought the boy would be alright, given time.

At least, he hoped so.

Semi was afraid to activate the communications equipment, because he feared Kawanishi would be able to track them from the star destroyer. He also knew they couldn’t fly directly into the city in a Sith TIE fighter without the risk of getting shot out of the sky.

Instead they landed near a remote city on Foerost, and Semi walked to the nearest outpost to contact Coruscant. It was the same communications operator, and this time she patched him through to Ushijima without question.

A brief conversation and an hour later, Yamagata landed his ship right beside the one that they’d stolen from Kawanishi. 

Goshiki cried when Ushijima stepped off of the boarding ramp, and Semi couldn’t even judge him. He averted his eyes and pretended not to be there as Ushijima spoke to his Padawan in a low tone, asking questions that Semi couldn’t hear, offering reassurances that made Goshiki smile through his tears.

He sent Goshiki off to their ship, where Yamagata and Reon waited. When Goshiki had boarded, Ushijima approached Semi instead, who sat in the dirt nearby.

Ushijima stood close, not speaking and not quite looking at him. After a hesitation, he lowered himself to the ground as well, sitting beside Semi.

“I thought I was walking into an ambush,” said Ushijima. “I did not think you would truly bring Tsutomu home.”

“Surprise,” murmured Semi. 

A few minutes of silence stretched between them. Ushijima didn’t seem to know what to say, and Semi certainly didn’t know where to go from here. He was an outcast on all sides. He could see no happy ending in his future.

Maybe Goshiki would have one, though. Maybe he would grow up and be a proper Jedi Knight.

“Why?” asked Ushijima.

Semi shifted and winced against the pain in his shoulder. “He didn’t deserve what Shirabu was going to do to him. It would have torn him apart. Death would have been kinder.”

“He seems different,” said Ushijima. “His mind.”

“I think he’ll recover,” said Semi. “He’s strong enough to overcome it.”

“You seem different as well,” said Ushijima.

Semi shook his head. “I had my mind shielded while I was here before. You don’t know how I really was.”

“No,” agreed Ushijima, “but I know how you are now, and I know that if you’d been the same, you would have made different decisions.”

Semi didn’t argue with him. He couldn’t, because Ushijima was right.

“Don’t get the wrong idea about me,” said Semi. “I didn’t just do this for Tsutomu. I did it for myself, too. If I hadn’t gotten out of there, I would’ve died anyway. And I thought if I brought him back here, you would owe me a favor.”

Ushijima’s face didn’t change. “What sort of favor?”

Semi took a breath, felt the crumbling dirt beneath his palms. “I want to see Tendou.”

Ushijima didn’t look away. “Why?”

Semi smiled a little. It felt strange on his face. “You know why.”

Ushijima considered him in silence. Then he said, “Alright. I’ll take you to him.” He stood and offered Semi a hand.

Semi couldn’t help but wonder if this was a trick. He thought perhaps Ushijima was going to lure him to Coruscant and throw him into a cell for the rest of his life, the way he’d done with Tendou. Perhaps, but Semi didn’t think so. He took Ushijima’s hand and was hauled to his feet.

Ushijima was Jedi. The Jedi didn’t lie.

Even if this was an exception, Semi didn’t mind. He would rather be trapped in the same city with Tendou than be free without him.

  
  
  
  
  
Tendou’s cell wasn’t as dark and dreary as Semi had imagined it.

He was in a small underground room, dressed in clean clothes. He looked tired, and he’d lost more weight than was healthy, but otherwise he was the same Tendou.

Semi knew Ushijima was standing in the doorway, but he couldn’t stop himself. He rushed inside and pulled Tendou into a one-armed embrace, pressing his face into a bony shoulder, breathing in the scent that had faded out of his life.

“Semi-Semi,” murmured Tendou, his long arms circling Semi’s back. “I missed you.”

Semi bit his lip so hard that it hurt. He struggled not to cry, but it was a losing battle. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and scorched his face as they fell.

Skeletal fingers combed through Semi’s hair and dropped down to trace the edge of the makeshift sling. “What happened?”

“Blaster,” said Semi, the words muffled into Tendou’s shoulder. “Kawanishi, probably.”

He felt Tendou stiffen, sensed the anger buzzing in his blood.

“I can’t believe Shirabu turned on us,” said Tendou. The words were a hiss. “After everything we did for him.”

“I can,” said Semi. “That’s how the Sith works, isn’t it? They cut each other’s throats to gain power.”

Tendou took a step back and looked down at him. His fingers were cold against Semi’s jaw. “Some of them. Not us.”

Semi shook his head. “I haven’t been Sith for years. Not since Shirabu replaced me.”

Tendou grinned. It was strained, but genuine. He glanced toward the door, then leaned closer to whisper, “No, but you can be again. You and I can rule the galaxies, Semi-Semi. Ushijima is the only one strong enough to keep me here. Kill him, get me out, and we’ll take care of Shirabu.”

The words were sweet, inviting. It took Semi a moment to realize exactly what Tendou had said.

He stumbled back, unbalanced by his trapped arm. “What?”

Tendou flicked a pointed glance toward Ushijima. “What’s wrong? I only said that I’m glad to see you again.”

Semi looked back at Ushijima, who’d stepped further into the room, and then to Tendou, whose grin hadn’t wavered.

“No,” he said. The single word tore into his throat like broken glass. “No. It’s over, Satori. We’re not Sith anymore. _You’re_ not Sith anymore. You have to let it go.”

“Why would I let go of my destiny, Semi-Semi?” asked Tendou, tilting his head. “What about the universe? What about power? Don’t give up on it. It’s what we’ve always wanted.”

Ushijima reached for Semi, but it was unnecessary. He backed away of his own accord, clenching his hand into a fist to fight the trembling. “I don’t want any of that,” said Semi. “I never did. All I ever wanted was you.”

The leer dripped off of Tendou’s face, leaving blank shock in its wake. Ushijima gestured Semi toward the door, and he went without argument. As he stepped into the corridor, past the two Jedi Knights guarding the door, Tendou’s voice called after him.

“No, hang on, wait. Eita? Come back. We still need to talk. Eita!”

The door slammed on his pleas, and Ushijima ushered Semi away from the cell. It wasn’t until they’d reached the main floor of the Temple that he spoke.

“You seem disappointed,” said Ushijima. “What did you expect?”

Semi said nothing. He couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat. He loped away from Ushijima, but didn’t quite make it out of the Temple. He collapsed just inside the entryway, sobs ripping out of his throat, desolation covering him like a fog.

He’d left the Jedi for Tendou, gone to the Dark Side, embraced the Light just to find him again. He’d thrown his life away, thrown everything away, just so he could be with Tendou.

He’d thought Tendou had wanted the same thing, but he’d been a fool. Tendou only wanted power, and he was willing to use Semi to get it.

He didn’t know how long he wallowed in self-pity and regret on the floor of the Jedi Temple. He only knew that when he broke out of the shell of pain, Ushijima was waiting.

“Yamagata has offered to let you stay with him,” said Ushijima, “until you choose your path. He seemed eager for it. He respects your abilities as a mechanic.”

Semi wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll turn? Maybe I’ll kill Yamagata in his sleep, and then kill you when you come looking for him.”

“You won’t,” said Ushijima. He sounded certain. “I could not feel you before, but I feel you now. The Force is with you, and not the Dark Side. You have changed.”

“What about Tendou?” said Semi. “Will he change?”

Ushijima frowned. “Tendou is consumed by the Dark Side. His thirst for power goes beyond anything you have fostered in your heart. Your reasons for choosing the Dark Side were not the same, and that is the difference between you.”

It was a noncommittal answer, but still Semi knew what Ushijima wasn’t saying.

Tendou would never see the Light.

Semi climbed off of the floor, his knees aching from the hard tile. “I would like to accept Yamagata’s offer,” he said. “If you will allow it.”

Ushijima inclined his head. “Of course. Come with me.”

Semi followed him without comment. His didn’t know what his future held. He didn’t know where he would be a month from then, or even a week, or even a day.

But whatever decision he made would not be influenced by the Dark Side, or by whispered promises of the Sith, or by the guiding hand of the Jedi.

For the rest of his life, any decision that Semi made would be his own.

  
  
  
  
  
It was six months later when Semi stepped into the Jedi Temple again. He’d avoided it under the pretense of feeling unworthy to be among the people that he had betrayed, but truly he couldn’t bring himself to be that close to Tendou, who was still ensconced below.

His avoidance of the Temple hadn’t meant a personal exile from Coruscant. In fact, he’d only left the city to go on short journeys with Yamagata to nearby planets. He still lived in the pilot’s spare room, and worked with him at the bays. 

Semi had built a life there, and though it was routine and uneventful, it was still somehow satisfying. 

“Semi!” 

The voice was familiar, and Semi smiled before he even turned around. Goshiki beamed back and hurried closer. 

“Yamagata said you finished your ship!” said Goshiki. “Will you let me see it?”

Semi had started building his own ship from the ground up a week after he’d arrived in the city, and he’d finished it only a few days before. It was what he worked on when his thoughts became too much to handle, when he just needed to act and not think.

“Of course,” said Semi. “Do you want to meet out in the bays after dinner? I’d like to take it for a test flight. You can come along if you want.”

Judging from Goshiki’s excitement, he very much wanted that.

“I can’t wait!” he said. “Yamagata said you put all kinds of cool equipment in it. It’s going to be great. Can I fly it?”

“Sure, after I make sure it flies right,” said Semi. He glanced around the foyer and said, “Where’s Ushijima?”

Goshiki’s enthusiasm was dampened. He looked down at the floor and said, “Oh, right. He’s waiting for you downstairs. He asked me to tell you.”

Semi nodded. “Alright. Thanks, Tsutomu.”

“Semi?” said Goshiki. “Are you… Do you want me to go with you? Master Ushijima said last time it wasn’t, umm… wasn’t good.”

A swell of affection made Semi smile, despite the dread stabbing at the base of his skull. “Thanks, Tsutomu, but I’ll be alright. I’ll see you out in the bays later, okay?”

Goshiki forced a return smile. “Okay. Goodbye, Semi.”

As Semi descended to the lower floors in solitude, he almost wished he’d accepted Goshiki’s offer. The boy had been a source of light and cheer in his life for the past six months. He would’ve liked to have a little of that light now.

Goshiki had bounced back from the Sith incident, as they’d hoped. He didn’t emerge completely unscathed, and Ushijima had told Semi in confidence that he still felt Goshiki’s mental scars. Even so, Goshiki had pushed through, and he was still on track to become a great Jedi. If anything, the experience had made him stronger. 

Ushijima waited at the mouth of the corridor that led to the holding cells. Semi had learned that only one was occupied. Most prisoners of the Jedi were held elsewhere, beneath differing levels of supervision.

Tendou was the only one dangerous enough to be kept here, where his connection to the Force could be suppressed by constant watchmen.

“I didn’t know if you would come,” said Ushijima.

“I said I would,” said Semi.

“You said that two weeks ago,” said Ushijima, “when I told you that he’d asked to see you.”

Semi shrugged. One shoulder was stiffer than the other, but it had stopped hurting a while back. “I second-guessed myself a few times.”

“Are you certain now?”

“Yes,” said Semi. “I am.”

Ushijima walked him down the corridor to the correct door, though there was no need. Semi remembered from the last time, and even if he hadn’t, the two guards outside the cell would have been the only indication that he needed.

“Could you wait outside?” asked Semi, when they reached the door. 

“I could,” said Ushijima, “but I do not think that I should.”

“I want to talk to him alone,” said Semi. “If he starts with the Sith nonsense I’ll call out for you. You can trust me.”

“I know that,” said Ushijima. “It isn’t you that I am worried about.” He nodded to the guards and they stepped aside. Ushijima opened the door and moved back so Semi could enter.

The room was exactly as Semi had remembered it, and Tendou had changed very little. He was still skeletal, his skin pulled taut across his sunken cheeks. His hair was long, brushing his shoulders, and the sickly pallor had settled more deeply into his flesh.

Still, the smile that tilted his face when he saw Semi was the same as ever.

“Hey, Semi-Semi.” His voice was dry, cracking like sunbaked earth. 

“Hey, Tendou.”

“What are you supposed to be?” asked Tendou, flicking a finger at Semi’s clothes.

“I’m a mechanic.” Semi stepped farther into the cell and gave Ushijima a reassuring nod. The door slid closed between them.

“I’m not surprised,” said Tendou, grin unwavering. “You were always good at that sort of thing.” He scooted closer to the foot of his cot, patting the flat bedding. “Wanna sit?”

Semi wasn’t sure if that was the best idea. He wished he’d asked Ushijima to accompany him after all, so he could look to him for approval. 

After a brief hesitation, he stepped nearer and sat on the corner of the cot, keeping a good distance between them.

“How’s your shoulder?” asked Tendou. “You’d just been shot the last time you were here.”

“It’s good now. I lost some flexibility, but it still works.”

Tendou watched him with those wide eyes, the ones that Semi often saw in his dreams.

“You seem okay,” said Tendou. He tilted his head. “You look happy. Or as close as you can look, with the way you scowl all the time.”

Semi said nothing, very aware of the way he scowled at that statement.

Tendou sighed and looked at the floor. “I’ve really missed you, Semi-Semi.”

The words tugged at Semi’s heart in a way he’d suppressed for the past six months. “Yeah. I’ve missed you, too.”

“I’m sorry,” said Tendou. “About last time. I don’t know why I said those things. I was so happy to see you. I should’ve been content with that, but I just… I couldn’t stop myself.”

The tug grew into a painful pull. Semi clenched his jaw, refusing to let his emotions show on his face. “It’s fine.”

“No,” said Tendou. “It isn’t.” He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t feel the Force in here. Ushijima cut me off completely. It took a long time for me to notice, but I think I’m different without it. My mind isn’t the same. I think about how much I wanted power, and what I was willing to do to get it, and it just feels wrong. It doesn’t seem like something I would do.” He rolled his head to the side to look at Semi. “Right now, I can’t imagine slaughtering everyone at that temple just to lure the Jedi out there, so you could infiltrate them. I can’t imagine killing anyone at all.” His brows pulled together and his mouth flattened into a serious line as he added, “Most of all, I can’t imagine making you do that. I knew you didn’t want to. You told me you didn’t, and I sent you anyway. I’m sorry, Semi-Semi. I’m sorry for a lot of things.”

Semi clenched his hands around the edge of the cot. He knew this could be an elaborate plan, hatched in months of solitude, to convince Semi to let his guard down. It could be a story constructed to draw Semi back in, to bring him back over to Tendou’s side. It could be Tendou’s attempt to gradually nudge Semi back into the Dark, so the two of them could fight the Jedi once more. It could have been, but the open vulnerability in Tendou’s eyes suggested otherwise.

“It’s okay,” said Semi, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Stop saying that,” said Tendou. “I ruined everything. I ruined _us_.” He reached for Semi, but aborted the gesture halfway through and let his hand drop onto the bed between them. “I shouldn’t have talked you into leaving the Jedi. This was where you belonged. You would have done great things, if it hadn’t been for me.”

“Shut up,” said Semi. “I don’t regret that part of it. I’d do it again.” He looked at Tendou’s fingers, clawlike and ghostly. When he wrapped his hand around Tendou’s, the coldness of his skin soaked Semi to the bone. He drew Tendou’s hand closer, pressed it between both of his. “We had some good years together, Satori. It was worth all of the bad.”

Tendou inched nearer, and when Semi didn’t protest, moved even closer. Their knees bumped, and Tendou leaned his shoulder against Semi’s.

“You know I’ll never be able to leave this cell,” said Tendou. “Even if the Jedi would allow it, I couldn’t. If I go back out there, the Dark Side will sink its hooks into me again and I won’t be able to fight it. I’ll be Darth Masakh again.”

“I know,” said Semi. He pressed his face against Tendou’s shoulder and breathed him in. “Ushijima will let me visit you, I think. I’ll come as often as I can.”

“You don’t have to,” said Tendou. “You have a life now. Don’t let me take that away from you.”

“You are my life, you idiot,” mumbled Semi. “You always have been.”

Tendou’s fingers threaded through his hair, gentle, careful. They sat like that for a while, interrupted only by Ushijima sliding open the door to check in before again retreating to give them privacy.

Tendou sighed, and his breath ruffled Semi’s hair. “I’ve really missed you, Eita.”

Semi pressed his cheek into Tendou’s bony shoulder and lightly squeezed his hand. “Not nearly as much as I’ve missed you.” 

This wasn’t the life Semi had wanted. 

Tendou would never be allowed to leave this cell. Shirabu was out there somewhere, likely training a new apprentice and plotting dark schemes. Semi knew he was a dead man if Shirabu ever found him, and it wouldn’t be a quick, painless death. Shirabu would make him suffer.

The circumstances weren’t ideal, and yet – as Tendou slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer – Semi felt he could find peace.

As long as he had this, as long as he had Tendou, he thought he could endure the rest.


End file.
